


You've Met A Terrible Fate, Haven't You?

by Zugzwang (thunderdone)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Cheating, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderdone/pseuds/Zugzwang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don’t cheat on people, because the rest of their fucking life at 1am or when vodka fills their veins all they’re going to wonder is why the hell they weren’t enough for you and it will slowly tear them apart, and just because you aren’t there anymore doesn’t mean it isn’t your fault because every “I love you” that you ever said will echo in their god dammed head and no one deserves that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Met A Terrible Fate, Haven't You?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tired but I keep having nightmares. I finished this up at 2:06 in the morning, I have gotten a total of forty five minutes of sleep. This will be sloppy and shitty. I do not share any of then views of homosexuality mentioned in thiis. I fully support it. Of course I do, I write gay fanfiction, I forgot.

"Don’t cheat on people, because the rest of their fucking life at 1am or when vodka fills their veins all they’re going to wonder is why the hell they weren’t enough for you and it will slowly tear them apart, and just because you aren’t there anymore doesn’t mean it isn’t your fault because every “I love you” that you ever said will echo in their god dammed head and no one deserves that." 

Michael sat in his kitchen, staring at a glass filled only with e last few ice remnants floating in their own blood where soothing, light auburn liquor had once been. The minutes ticked by quicker than it would have seemed possible, one minute it was midnight, the next is was two in the morning, the ice fully melted along with any plans of getting sleep through the night. 

This had begun, occasions such as this, around four months ago for Michael, around when Gavin had moved out of his place to live with Meg, and Ray's frequency of free days dropped as Tina began to lay a larger role in his life. Michael wasn't mad at Gavin or Ray for perusing someone they loved and who loved them in return, and he wasn't mad at either Meg or Tina either, since they were nice people and weren't treating Gavin or Ray like garbage. 

It just brought up repressed memories. Memories which were like shirts, there was always one ugly, home-made tie-dye that was shoved way in the back of the drawer in the hopes of being whisked away along with all those socks that somehow vanished. But sometimes, it reappeared. May it be by magic, somehow emerging from the depths of hell just to sit happily on a bed of it ha smirk, or just through the flicking through of other shirts, as its sleeve peered out from underneath them all. 

Some nights were worse than others, as they were for many others in such a situation. There were nights where he came only in his dreams, a sinister chuckle in the darkness accompanied by words soon after all too familiar, although they were never said by him when they were together. 

"You've met a terrible fate, haven't you?"

The dreams came with sensations of cool, clammy fingers spidering up his back and sometimes to his neck, his former friend's voice echoing alongside his,"He doesn't need to ever know..." He'd wake up suddenly, without warning sweat racing down his back and the ghost of a touch on his chest as a final phrase echoed throughout his head.

"I love you..."

Then there were the bad nights, the nights where scenes tore through his mind, easily locating the more tender part of his brain. Sometimes, the thing in his brain liked to sharpen its claws beforehand, just testing both their damage and Michael's resistance that day with occasional jabs and prods. Usually these came around midday, and he could, more or less, ignore them. But they were always a sure sign for the torment to come.

Later it would strike, usually after a period of faux calm, tearing through his composure to play with his brain, raking its claws through his mind and sending the worst memories forward, while during the later night, illusions and specters of the ghosts to taunt him, their laughs and 'I Love You's blending in with the shouts of trust and the sound of flesh hitting flesh, occasional whimpers originating from him.

These nights he didn't— couldn't —sleep. If it was a weekend or Friday, he would drink away the pain, scrambling his thoughts with whiskey or something of the sort. Yes, it dulled his senses and blurred the lines between reality and shade, but the next morning it was almost guaranteed that the happenings would be swept into the vault of intoxicated memories, where pleasure and pain were scattered together, sometimes connected to show a bigger picture if Michael really focused, but that never happened. 

But then it happened at work. 

Through the descriptions of panic attacks he had come across in his life, one could really describe this one. He wasn't really drowning in memories, but it was more or less that he was the Wile E. Coyote, eyes bulging out as an anvil came down on his head, unstoppable. He assumed that this may have been a panic attack. 

It was as calm as the office ever got, the clicking of mouses all around him as the others worked. Geoff and Ryan spoke about some top five or another, while occasional shouts from the Let's Build office were muffled. Gavin walked in with a mug of tea clutched in both hands, taking his place beside Michael as the anvil dropped. 

Michael's mind was consumed, claustrophobia beginning to set in as he moved back a little in his. Hair in an attempt to staunch the ebb of it into his mind. 'I love you...' hissed into his ears, the backbeat of 'He lied... He lied...", the one constant within his nightmarish state. The laughter of those who used to be friends rang throughout his mind, a high, feminine voice paired with a laugh slightly lower than his own, but different in the shape of it. 

"Michael? Are you listening?"

He blinked, trying to slow his breathing as he looked up to see Geoff, frowning a little at him with concern. "Are you okay? You seemed kind of out of it for a few minutes, there." Michael blinked a little and shook his head a fraction as he stared at Geoff, blinking a few times before forcing himself to nod instead. 

"Sorry, I'm fine. I mean. I'm okay. What did you say?" 

'He never loved you, he isn't a faggot like you are...' The high female voice echoes in his head as he stared at Geoff, fully aware that he was speaking and giving him work to do. The problem was his voice was drowned out by the more toxic female's. 'Why the fuck would you think he's gay? You don't see him running around mooning over Ryan Gosling and giving blowjobs to every guy he sees like they do.' He found himself chewing his lip raw as he stared at Geoff's hand waving in front of his face. 

"Michael, are you sure you're feeling alright?" The calloused hand moves to gently press against his forehead, the owner of it frowning a little down at him. "You aren't that hot... How do you feel?"

More blinks as he shakes his head. "I'm not feeling so well, sorry Geoff. Is it alright if I head home? Headache, stomachache, slight dizziness..." Gavin moves over to stare at him, moving around incessantly as he did. "Gavin, fuck off."

Geoff laughs a little. "Same old Michael. If you're feeling dizzy, Ryan should probably drive you home, just so you don't crash or anything. That sound okay?" Michael didn't hear, again, half of what Geoff said, so he just nodded. 

Ryan stood up, smiling softly as he walked over, tugging his sweater on. "Okay.. Ready Michael?" The latter nodded and tossed him the keys to his car quickly, as he too tugged on a sweater. Gavin smiles and cheerily waves them goodbye as they walk out of the office. 

The ride home, on the outside, was quiet. Ryan didn't use the radio as not to aggravate Michael's "headache", and assumed he didn't want to be involved within a conversation either. Michael's mind was still drowned in torrential bits of memory: hands linked over a scratched coffee table, the blonde girl shouting at him, the smirk of the swim team member he had loved so dearly. 

As they pulled up and got out of the car, Michael looked to Ryan and blinked a little as he took his house keys. "Ryan?" The latter looked up to him and smiled. "Yeah, Micael? What is it."

Michael holds out his arms, looking to the side self consciously. "Can I have a hug?" Neither of the, were very huggy people, which made it even more awkward, but with a gentle smile, Ryan accepted and pulled him close, hand gently pressed to his back. "I hope whatever it is clears up soon, Michael." Michael nodded a little and sighs. "Thanks."


End file.
